


Masked

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: Obikin Week 2k18 [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternative Obi-Wan, Badass Makeup on Men, Cultural Stigma Against Alternative Subcultures, Dancing, Day 5, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mask Night, Obikin Week 2018, One Fluff?, Supportive Anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 22:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15375003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: There is a part of himself that Obi-Wan feels he must hide away. Anakin wants to show him he really, truly accepts all of Obi-Wan Kenobi.





	Masked

**Author's Note:**

> Obikin Week 2k18 Day 5: Touch Starved/Halloween or masquerade party [meeting under masks]
> 
> (I used Meeting Under Masks, and Touch Starved in an emotional sense, not a physical one?)

 

Anakin adjusted the mask he wore— a stylized dark green dragon that coiled around his eyes and draped its wings over his cheekbones— and peered up at the neon sign above the door.

_ Hawkbat Cave  _ it read, and Anakin took a deep breath.

He'd been here once before as a teenager, had followed Obi-Wan when his master went out, clothed in strange black garb with elaborate face decorations of stark white and black.

At that point, Anakin had never heard of Diaev before. Didn't know why Obi-Wan didn't just openly accept this part of himself like he did all the other aspects of his personality.

It was only after some stealthy research that Anakin realized that some people, a  _ lot  _ of people, heard the word  _ Diaev  _ or saw the elaborate black gear and immediately thought of self-harming teenagers with a penchant for vandalism and pet murder.

They didn't think of the lawyer just down the street, who in secret appreciated an aesthetic and a musical subgenre. They didn't think of adults who took care of themselves and their children, who smiled and were decent beings, who had a penchant for dark flowy clothing and dramatic makeup.

Anakin understood now why Obi-Wan felt it wasn't safe for him to be out as Diaev. To admit he liked reading poetry by candlelight, that his preferred appearance included porcelain-white makeup.

But it didn't make Obi-Wan a  _ different  _ Obi-Wan from the kind and fair man who had raised Anakin. The devastating general and strategist who faced down death by Anakin's side, always watching his back, day after day.

The being Anakin had fallen in love with, step by step, through these years of war.

Anakin cloaked his Force presence, and stepped into the club.

The music had turned soft and brooding, the evening dedicated to dark symphonic music— Obi-Wan's favorite. An orchestra in the thrall of whimsy and wonder, and beauty in the strangest of places.

The way a raindrop caressed a skull in a field of lilies. Life and death, not pretending the latter didn't exist while celebrating the former, but an embracing of it  _ all. _ All truth, not a world edited to be  _ comfortable. _

In its own strange way, Jedi to the core.

Obi-Wan.

It didn't take Anakin long to locate his love. Obi-Wan danced with a flowing beauty that brought his graceful fingers to immediate attention. He wore a small mask, a coy imitation of an eyepatch, the one side black with silver scrollwork and the other a similar tone to his skin.

He'd waxed his mustache to give it just the slightest curl, wore tall boots with a thick cuff, and long black gloves that flared at his elbows.

He fit in with the pseudo-medieveal/fantasy vibe perfectly, the mysterious pirate in a sea of plumaged beings.

And now for what Anakin was really here for.

He danced at the edge of the open area, knowing he looked far less graceful than his Obi-Wan, but how Anakin looked this evening didn't matter.

He edged his way closer until he danced close, and caught Obi-Wan's eye.

The blue behind the pirate mask widened in shock, and Obi-Wan nearly froze.

But Anakin simply stepped closer and continued dancing, a soft smile touching his lips.

Obi-Wan had a difficult time believing Anakin accepted him,  _ all  _ of him, simply for who he was. He thought himself too old, too sad, too harried, not demonstrative enough, and— well, too alternative in his appearance tastes.

This evening was something Obi-Wan had looked forward to all month, and Anakin wanted,  _ needed  _ him to know that while Anakin's music tastes might lie elsewhere, every part of what made Obi-Wan  _ Obi-Wan  _ was precious to Anakin.

_ All  _ of it.

Anakin let the impression of those ideas flow along their bond, and Obi-Wan's eyes widened in surprise, then brushed all over Anakin, taking in the billowy black shirt Anakin wore, with the cravat of lace. The tight leather pants, the tall boots, Anakin's painted black fingernails, and the eyeliner Anakin had been practicing in secret for days, but still wasn't proud of.

Obi-Wan made it look easy.

Tears obscured Obi-Wan's eyes, and then he stepped forward, arms snapping around Anakin, holding him tight as if Obi-Wan might never release his grip. Wonder and gratitude flooded the Force around him as Obi-Wan finally understood.

Finally  _ believed. _

Anakin held him, listened to the mesmerizing dance of stringed instruments, and let the magic of it wash over him.

_ You are enough, my Master. You have always been enough. _

_You will always be enough._

 

 


End file.
